I had so many dark thoughts about the past year and not a lot of positive for the next. I was prepared to write a ranting post about the horrible state of the world and then….I read several things written by folks much smarted than I am. For instance:

“Speaking of the happy new year, I wonder if any year ever had less chance of being happy. It’s as though the whole race were indulging in a kind of species introversion — as though we looked inward on our neuroses. And the thing we see isn’t very pretty… So we go into this happy new year, knowing that our species has learned nothing, can, as a race, learn nothing — that the experience of ten thousand years has made no impression on the instincts of the million years that preceded.” John Steinbeck January 1, 1941

It would seem that as bad as things seem, they come in cycles so in the words of Bette Davis “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night.” I’m going to hang on and hope to ride it out until the wheel turns.

as long as there are poets

and stars up in the sky

then hope will fling the sweetest words

to float above us high
as long as there are singers

the band will surely play

marry the two, the singer the song

the heart will have it’s say
as long as there are dancers

and feet to tap the time

to travel the world on a single floor

movement synced with rhyme
as long as there are painters

to mirror color and line

reflect the hope, the world goes on

with brushstroke, broad and fine
as long as there’s a speck of God

in every living soul

creative need a planted seed

will help to make us whole
as long as there are hands to make

to reach across a chasm deep

to hold, to soothe, extend to shake

to do the work till time to sleep
from heart to mind to hands and feet

Peace falls soft with the night
Though even as the sun sets
it shares a rosy glow
Though we may be blue as the sky
The lesson from the trees
Taught as they stand still and reach
for light till it fades to black
and even then they stand
waiting to share the cool
gathered from night
when the sun returns

As I walk through the world
I wonder what is my purpose,
my reason, my work
Fears and worries chase me
like a million bees buzzing in my ears
but the sun reminds me that I will be warm
The pond reflects the peace
that grows in the trees and the grass
The bird stands guard
proclaiming nothing and everything
In the silence

I was honored to present this at church. After torturing my husband with practicing all week I was able to do it without reading every word. The news has been so bad lately, it makes you question everything and this was my way of trying to figure things out.

What are we to do when evil
drops in and curls up on the sofa,
whispers to us from the tv,
tickles the back of the throat as we watch
another fatherless child weep?
Will we see Jesus as we stumble
along this dry and dusty road
filled with funerals and rage?
There is no room for both love and hate.
One will always push the other off the cliff
and in the falling we close our eyes
so heaven is no more in our sight.
How we see becomes what we do.
Did God know when he took clay and formed it
in His image
how we would refuse to see Him in each other?
We cannot fall so far
that grace cannot catch us by surprise
and place us back in green pastures.
Dissension can never yell so loud
that it drowns out the bird’s song.
God waits while we struggle,
ready to
give us back the gifts made for us,
give us back the work prepared for us,
give us back the part of us that is like Him.
So, while evil sits on the sofa
let us do what makes us who we should be.
Feed the hungry, heal the sick, console the bereft.
Let’s turn our backs on the thief of joy.
Sooth the tickle at the back of the throat
with living water.
Weep with the fatherless
and be Jesus on the dusty road
for those who need Him most.
There is no law against these things
and they will give us back so much more than they cost.
We will be salt.
We will be light.
We will see grace.

the sun so loud it hurts my ears
and even as the night would cool
I feel the heat brush tree limbs bare
and paints a sky that once knew blue
but bids us peace with brighter hue
a fierce reminder daylight wins
and as a planet silent spins
the sunset chorus covers sins
dawn will come the dance begins
but just for now keep watch and see
a symphony of light for free

I am so guilty
of overthinking, overclocking, over-reacting
to it all and now I am tired and wired and
seeing that all are not good and will not be okay
and as sad as it is I will not be rushed
or crushed or brushed under the rug
stepped on like a bug, I lugged this carcass
miles and while it may have been a need
once upon a heavy time I let it go and silently
clap
in time with the breeze that carries it and me
above the storm and change, my range a new norm
a piece of peace to call I own it now
just like that guilt, the silt left by the storm, the flood
the murky mud of letting loose the noose no longer
choking off the quiet till like dandelion ghost I float
and in the invisible become seen and heard
where it matters

rain skates across skidding clouds
smoking up the blue and
drowning us all in grey and sad
shrinking us into the landscape
even the trees drift into dark
while the buildings sink
their foundations into the earth
as everything waits

don’t fear the dark
everything must sleep
every living thing
does the sky not tell you?
Do the shadows not close your eyes?
Let the sound of the water
sing a lullaby
let the soft breeze rock
your tired bones
all must nestle down and
curl around the earth
for warmth and peace

morning waits
just beyond the treeline
and for a moment
night hangs on to the sky
by the tip of ragged branches
shivering in the early morning chill
stretching for the sun
even before it appears
how do they know?
the pond whispers
and they listen